


Vulcan Love Slave

by TheLadysBlush (BlushingNewb)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual Sex, Freedom, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Reform Vulcan, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Soul Bond, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:05:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingNewb/pseuds/TheLadysBlush
Summary: A mysterious and compelling barbarian saves the life of an S’Kanderai warrior. Can that warrior now find the courage to defy the laws of his people and rescue the offworlder from a life of servitude?





	Vulcan Love Slave

**Author's Note:**

> Clarification about the tags in the end notes, but also a spoiler.

Spock had never been to an establishment dedicated solely to the purpose of trading in pleasure before. His distaste for enforced servitude was one of his many quirks that distinguished him from the rest of his people. The system of slavery was one that he found both immoral and lacking in certain logical foundations, but to extend that form of bondage into the realm of carnal satisfaction…the only word he could find to accurately describe it was bestial.

It was not the code of the S’Kanderai that had brought him to the brothel of Stikkot. There was of course a prescribed method for acknowledging one’s gratitude to a slave, but for some reason he could not quite describe, he had determined that his debt went beyond the payment of his own honor price to the slave’s master.

The first thing he noticed was the heady fragrance of nakhtmeen emanating from a censer beside the door, and without intending to, he was thrust back into the past, half a month ago, when he had first been immersed in that scent. He’d been gasping for breath, his nose tightly pressed against a barbarian’s smooth chest, grateful to still be alive.

The trip from Gol to the newly prosperous valley of ShiKahr was not without its hazards, but Spock’s band of warriors were well acquainted with the more dangerous aspects of the road. This time, they had been traveling alongside a group of intrepid traders hoping to expand their thriving business in ShiKahr. They were dealers in flesh, and the slaves that traveled with them were well-treated, prized for their beauty and strength. Once in the wilderness, they had been unchained and mounted on horseback just as their masters were – any slave foolish enough to try and escape among the deadly Fire Plains was not worth the bother of owning.

The merchants counted themselves lucky to travel with Spock’s division of S’Kanderai and had no compunction about sending their merchandise to the tents of the men for their pleasure. On the seventh night of their journey, Spock had come across a slave as he was returning to his own tent. The slave’s bright head had been bowed, his features indistinguishable, but something had prompted Spock to look at him carefully. As if sensing the eyes of another on him, the slave looked up. By the gods, the man’s eyes were the color of rarest lamorite glass! Quite against his will, Spock’s mouth had fallen open. What a prize he would make some lucky warrior!

But Spock had underestimated the barbarian’s true worth, his inner virtue. As they passed under the shadow of Mount Selaya, Spock’s horse had spooked at something and had thrown him right out of the saddle. The slice of road where he had fallen gave way, and he slid down a steep embankment. A stream of lava flowed sluggishly beneath him, and as he propped himself on a jutting rock and panted, he realized that he was more than 15 feet away from the edge of the cliff.

_The smell of sulfur was everywhere…the heat unbearable…he was choking…so he stretched out his arms in surrender…_

Shouts had interrupted Spock’s thoughts, and a rope was suddenly tossed down to him. It was the blue-eyed slave who had found him, and when Spock reached the edge, the barbarian had reached out to grasp him beneath the arms with his own hands. When they touched, Spock’s skin had sizzled and he felt a connection pulsing between them. Once he was safely back on solid ground, he longed to reach out to the man again but desisted. He did not belong to Spock. _Not yet_ , had said a greedy voice from deep within him. Spock fought it. The man’s actions had been worthy of a warrior, and Spock resolved at once to honor him.

And that resolution now found Spock here, at Stikkot’s House of Pleasures. He had arranged to meet his savior’s owner there a fortnight after their journey; he had needed time to retrieve an heirloom of his family for payment, a cozzotaite necklace that had been returned to him when his betrothed had spurned him for another.

Stikkot greedily took the necklace and gave him the slave’s collar key and chit of ownership. Leering, he jerked his head toward the direction of the stairs and Spock strode up them with uncertainty, not knowing how his rescuer would feel about their reunion.

* * *

Spock pushed aside beaded curtains to reveal a sumptuous chamber. There was a round bed spread with a luxurious emerald cloth, and many large velvety cushions were strewn about the floor. Heavy red draperies banded with cloth-of-gold covered the walls, and a brazier was lit in one corner of the room. The only other light came from a window but was muted by a sheer sapphire curtain with an almost iridescent sheen. The faint strumming of a lute seemed to come from another part of the establishment, and for a moment, Spock thought he heard the soft tinkling of bells. Something moved from behind a three-paneled folding screen near the bed, and finally, the room’s sole inhabitant came into sight.

Spock’s breath caught in his chest.

The blue-eyed slave was scantily clad in a short, scarlet kilt and an elaborate set of delicate, gold chains, draped over and around his shoulders and chest. His genitals were outlined beneath the slinky fabric, the fullness of his manhood all the more erotic for its inadequate cover, and Spock knew at once why the slave’s price had been so high. The man’s bronzed skin gleamed, and Spock longed to seize him. As the slave walked toward him the chains on his broad chest clinked and shifted so that they grazed his pink-tan nipples. He smiled gently, the corners of his plush mouth upturned just slightly.

“You came,” he said.

“As I said I would,” Spock replied. “A warrior keeps his word.”

The smile slid from his face. “So now I belong to you,” he said with grim acceptance, staring off into the corner of the room.

“No,” Spock said firmly, and the blue eyes widened in surprise. “I have bought you to free you,” Spock said, holding out the key to his collar. With the swiftness of a lara bird, the man snatched the key from Spock’s hand to keep him from changing his mind. ~~~~

“Wait,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “what’s to say that on this crazy planet some other Eridani won’t just clap me in irons while I’m asleep?”

Spock nodded. The slave was indeed wise about the shameful ways of his people.

“That brings me to this,” said Spock, pulling a purse from his pack. Inside the purse was all the wealth that Spock had accumulated from the sale of the necklace’s matching bracelets, earrings, and rings. “I have a proposal, barbarian.”

“I’m listening,” said the slave.

“In here is enough silver and gold to outfit you as a warrior and purchase you a horse of your own. I would have you – if you would have me – as a companion in arms. Your bravery is worth that of ten Eridani who have inherited their position in the S’Kanderai. No man would dare to touch you once you have taken the Warrior’s Oath, and I will vouch for your suitability. Or,” Spock continued softly, “you might take passage off this world and nevermore think of Eridan. We would be as a dream to you, Offworlder.”

The human turned away from him and strode to the window. The fading light played over his strange, horizontal eyebrows, and Spock longed to pull him into his arms.

“Why would you do this for me, Spock? We barely know each other.”

“I have the mind touch,” Spock said. “You are worthy.”

The man raised his hand to his temple. “Is that why I still feel you…in here?” he asked.

Spock swallowed. “I was not aware that you, too, could sense it.”

“I dreamed…” the slave sighed, closing his eyes. Shocked, Spock watched as he slowly ran his hand up and down his own chest.  “Yes. At night, in the dark, I dreamed of you.”

He whirled to face Spock, smiling broadly, and it was as warm as the sunrise, his entire face opening up like a flower. The slave’s impossible blue eyes sparkled and slowly raked over Spock’s body.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I’ll come with you.”

Summoning some saliva to his dry throat, Spock asked, “what are you called?”

The corner of the man’s lips quirked upward before he answered, “Jim. I’m Jim. But they started calling me Sanosh a couple of days after I got off the ship.”

 _Pleasure._ Spock groaned inwardly. Each slave was given a name according to his…unique talents. This man was a walking invitation to sin. He approached Spock, swaying his hips as he grew closer. Jim slid his hand up Spock’s arm, stopping just below his pauldron. 

“Can you feel me now?” Jim asked. Wordlessly, Spock nodded. “Is it the same…way…I feel you?” Desire coursed through Spock’s body, seeming to flow directly from Jim’s fingers to his skin.   

“When touching, the sensation is different,” Spock said. He took a shaky breath. “Magnified…your mind, Jim, is…” he trailed off, and grabbed Jim’s other hand.

“Yeah?” asked Jim breathlessly.

“Most dynamic,” Spock whispered.

“Huh,” said Jim. “I never felt any of those others’ minds,” and at those words a green haze fell over Spock’s eyes. He jerked away from Jim’s hands, fighting the urge to throw Jim beneath him at once, to take him, to make him cry out in pleasure and mark him with his seed for all of the galaxy to see. Gesturing swiftly to the man’s neck, indicating that Jim should uncollar himself at once, Spock grated out, “you are now free.”

Jim looked at him shrewdly.

“You’re actually jealous.”

“I…no, that would be illog - of course I am not jealous.”

“I like it,” Jim said, his lip curling upwards on one side. “What are we to one another?” he asked Spock. “What are we that your mind meets mine so easily?”

“We are… _t’hy’la_ ,” Spock said, feeling a deep contentment roll up from inside him as he uttered the sacred word. “You are my one, as I am yours.”

“So that means we belong to each other?” said Jim, already seeming to know the answer.

“Yes,” said Spock, daring to reach a hand out to Jim’s, to run two fingers over his knuckles.

“Then,” said Jim, placing the key to his freedom into Spock’s palm, “I want you to take the collar off of me, Master. Set me free.”

As Jim gracefully fell to his knees, Spock forgot how to breathe. It may have been five seconds before he began to think again, and when he did, his mind was filled with nothing but the man kneeling in front of him. He was a vision, with his messy fair hair, his mineral-blue eyes, his newly spread thighs, and his plump pink lips. Spock ached to caress one of his sweet round ears that looked so smooth to his fingertips. Instead, Spock crouched over Jim and reached out his hands to the back of the collar. The key found the lock easily, and with the slightest of turns, the collar fell open. Jim caught it in his hands, and without looking away from Spock, tossed it off to the side.

“Forevermore, thou art free,” Spock whispered, and he reached out with one hand to cup Jim’s face, to trail his fingertips over his psi-points. “I am thine, and t’hy’la, thou art mine.”

At Spock’s last words, lust hummed suddenly underneath Jim’s skin, surging out from his neural pathways with such rapidity that Spock gasped. He could feel in Jim an overwhelming urge to be claimed, indeed, to be _mastered_ by him, and there was nothing that Spock would ever deny his t’hy’la. Spock gripped Jim by the back of his neck and pulled him up to him, kissing him forcefully. Jim moaned and his soft lips parted in surrender, giving way to Spock’s thrusting tongue.

Spock was startled to find that Jim tasted of the favinit, his favorite fruit, and it drove him wild. He curled his tongue into Jim’s mouth, seeking out the flavor, and Jim sagged in his arms.

“Oh,” Spock whispered, clutching him tightly. “What you do to me, Jim…the way you make me _feel_ …” Breaking off, Spock took his lips again and again until Jim was panting.

“We’ve only just begun,” Jim muttered with a dark chuckle, and Spock detected the promise of further sensual surprise.

“Then let us continue,” Spock growled, picking him up in both arms and forcefully laying him out on the bed. The chains that Jim had draped over his torso slithered enticingly over his chest, and Spock twined his fingers through them to pull Jim’s mouth up to his again. While he wrapped one hand about the chains, he split the fingers of his other hand and trailed them from Jim’s throat to his broad chest. Jim bucked underneath him as he slid them over a peaked nipple.

“Spock…” Jim moaned, and Spock returned his fingers to circle around the human’s areole.

“Yes, Jim?” Spock asked, “what do you wish?”

“C’mon, Spock,” Jim begged, and Spock grinned at him playfully, permitting himself the expression in these more primitive times. Spock yielded to his pleas soon enough, though, pinching and pulling at those tender nubs to make Jim writhe mindlessly against him in pleasure. When Spock relented for a brief moment, Jim rallied and began tugging at Spock’s armor.

“As hot as this is, it’s gotta go,” he said, unbuckling Spock’s breastplate. Spock assisted by releasing the clasps of his pauldrons and Jim’s eyes widened at the newly revealed flesh.

“Ohhh, what the fuck is this?” he groaned, running his hands greedily over the inky swirls of Vulcan script that spiraled up and down Spock’s biceps. His fingers dug into the writing and Spock saw his pupils grow large and dark.

Spock allowed some uncharacteristic smugness to creep into his voice. “S’Kanderai warriors are tattooed as befits their rank.”

“Uh,” Jim stuttered, “yeah, I can see that, yeah. It’s a good look on you. You’ll have to tell me what it says…some other time…” he trailed off, shifting so that he could press himself against Spock’s hip. Spock became aware of the need in the human’s thrusts, the firmness of his organ. He pulled away from Jim to dispense with the rest of his armor.

“Yeah, oh god, Spock, yeah,” said Jim, and Spock heard the approval in Jim’s voice, and felt the urgent thrumming of his lust through their bond. The human’s thick member was forcing the fabric of the kilt upwards in an obscene manner, and Spock could restrain himself no longer. He took the immediate action of pushing the cloth all the way up to Jim’s waist. Revealed, Jim’s phallus was fully engorged, flushed with the red of his human blood, and even as Spock watched, a bit of clear fluid seeped out and trickled over the exotic single crown. Spock bent to lap up the moisture, reveling in the salty taste.

Jim let out a slew of illogical Terran curses as he cupped Spock’s cheeks and caressed the tips of his ears. Encouraged, Spock continued to sample Jim’s flavor with soft licks, and finally, he fastened his mouth over the tip and sucked directly from the source. He cupped the full, round testes with his fingers – so vulnerable left outside the body this way! – and rolled them gently in their soft purse of flesh. Jim’s legs twitched and shifted on the bed.

“Oh, please,” Jim whimpered. “I can’t…too good…” he said, starting to thrust his hips rhythmically off the bed. He pushed Spock away from his groin and fisted the satin sheets, his chest heaving. Beads of sweat stood out on Jim’s brow, and Spock felt his own organ pulse with desperate longing. His desire was great, and as he poured it through their bond, Jim gasped at the sensation. Mastering himself somehow, though, this amazing man turned a slow smile to Spock and spread his legs far, far apart.

“I wish for you to have me now, t’hy’la,” he said, licking his lips. Spock, having noticed a vial of oil conveniently placed on a table adjacent to the bed, valiantly restrained himself from lunging toward it. Instead, he mentally recited a sentence from the warrior’s code before reaching for it with proper Vulcan dignity. His t’hy’la wasn’t going anywhere. Hovering over Jim, Spock took his mouth again, nibbling and sucking at his lower lip. When Jim let out a soft, breathy moan, Spock released him and coated two of his fingers in oil.

He gripped Jim beneath a knee and encouraged him to hold himself in place, so he could have both hands free to lift his testicles and probe along his cleft. Spock trailed his fingers down, down the patch of taut, sensitive skin, to the entrance of Jim’s beautiful body, where he would…

“ _Val Ny’One_!” Spock cursed, his  _lok_ throbbing painfully with sudden urgency. His finger had slid effortlessly into Jim, the relaxed channel welcoming him at once with open heat and slick wetness. Jim grinned up at him, delight written all over his face. He was breathing shallowly as Spock continued to finger him, but he exuded triumph through their bond.

“A love slave,” said Jim softly, his voice thick with satisfaction, “is prepared for anyone who wishes to claim him.”

Spock could have sworn to it that his hearts stopped for a moment, and it was several more seconds before he was able to take in oxygen again. When Spock recovered from his shock, he pushed another two fingers into his t’hy’la, and Jim looked up at him with a sultry smile, clenching purposefully around him. Spock pulled his fingers free and slathered oil on himself before pushing Jim’s legs up to his chest. His hands were shaking, so Jim took it upon himself to guide him to the opening of his body.

“I will claim you thus, my Jim,” groaned Spock, shoving into him forcefully. Jim howled his pleasure, digging his fingernails into Spock’s back, and Spock felt his need through their bond, his great desire for this possession. He set up a rough, punishing pace, slamming into Jim over and over again. He could feel Jim’s turgid phallus against his own abdomen, the moisture that trickled from his organ, proof positive that Jim wanted this, needed this, needed _him_ …

“Spock, oh…” moaned Jim, “more, more…” and Spock angled his thrusts upward so that Jim’s cries grew sharper and shorter. Spock put his forehead against his t’hy’la’s, to show that he was with him in this ecstasy, and he felt a rhythmic grasping begin around him, originating deeply from within Jim’s body.

“Oh, god, Spock, god, I need…” and because Spock could sense what his t’hy’la craved, he curled a fist around Jim and stroked and stroked. Spock could feel sparks, like living flame, take flight behind his eyelids as he felt the symmetry of Jim’s pulses under his sensitive fingers and in the contractions around his own hardness as he buried himself in his beloved again and again…

“Yeah, oh, yeah!” gasped Jim as he coated Spock’s hand with warm wetness, and that was it, Spock was flying, too, crying out just once as he stilled and gave all of himself over to his t’hy’la.

* * *

Jim gradually became aware of fingers gingerly stroking his hair, and the gentle swiping of a soft towel over his abdomen. He stretched out his legs and groaned with satisfaction.

“Mmm,” he said, opening his eyes to smile over at Spock, who was now running two fingers over his forearm. “You were fantastic, Spock. How was it for you?”

Even in the somewhat dim light, Jim could tell that the tips of Spock’s ears were still dusted with green. Jim didn’t really need to ask – he had felt Spock’s full enjoyment of the proceedings in their link – but he had always loved teasing Spock and he always would.

Spock’s back straightened. “It was…most elucidating.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it,” Jim grinned. “Did you have a favorite part?”

Spock’s cheeks colored, and Jim, though he was far from ready for a second round, felt his cock twitch.

“The…surprises, if you will, were most fascinating,” said Spock softly. Jim chuckled.

“Yeah, you definitely caught me off guard with this,” Jim said, running two fingers over the spiraled script that decorated Spock’s upper arms. “It’s gorgeous and damned sexy. First of all, how did you do it, and second, what does it say?”

“It is not permanent, so it is not authentic in that regard. I utilized a dye similar to that used in Terran Mehndi, and I required only a short amount of time and privacy to apply it. I notice you used your time prior to our assignation to prepare something equally…unanticipated,” Spock said, with a sidelong glance.

“Yeah,” Jim said, blushing in spite of himself. “I, uh, also thought that would promote authenticity. In another kind of way.”

“This,” said Spock, pointing to the swirls on his right shoulder, “says ‘ _S’chn T’gai Spock, t’hy’la of James Tiberius Kirk’_ and on this arm,” Spock said, indicating his left, “is the date of our bonding, and the vows we spoke then.”

Jim scooted closer to his bondmate. “I love the tats, babe. I know they’re not the real deal, but they’re great. Think you could do me, too?”

“Of course, Jim. They will last for a few weeks.”

“Oh, my god, that’s so hot,” said Jim, placing a full, lingering kiss on Spock’s cheek. “I love you,” he said, and Spock kissed him in turn.

Sighing with reluctance, Jim rolled out of the sumptuous bed and padded over to the bag he had stowed in the corner. From it, he extracted a simple sleeping bag and two Starfleet uniforms, one in command gold and the other in science blue. After Jim placed the uniforms gently aside to de-wrinkle, he unrolled the sleeping bag out on the deck with a flourish, and, still naked, stretched out to his full length, patting to the empty space beside him.

“We’ve still got an hour or so before we need to clear out of here, Spock. C’mere and cuddle with me for a bit.”

Spock walked over and laid down beside his t’hy’la, and Jim pulled him close, wrapping the bag around them.

“Thank you for doing all this…illogical stuff for me,” Jim said.

“It was quite pleasurable, ashayam. I cherish our time together,” Spock said, pressing a human kiss to Jim’s forehead.

“Think we’ll, uh…do this again?” asked Jim.

“I am amenable to your suggestions. I found this activity to be highly stimulating.”

“You’re incredible,” said Jim, smiling as he ran his fingers through Spock’s bangs. “I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but I have some other ideas I’ll have to let you in on later. For now, though…we good here?” Once Spock nodded his assent, Jim raised his head up from the floor and said in a loud voice:

“Computer, end program ‘Vulcan Love Slave.’”

**Author's Note:**

> A happily married Jim and Spock have appropriated the Enterprise B’s newly-installed holodeck for some naughty time. Title references one of Quark’s more risqué holoprograms from DS9. There are also numerous, numerous allusions to K/S classics from writers Gayle F and Jenna Hillary Sinclair, and probably several others. Thank you for reading :)


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